The Abandoned
by gothicorca1895
Summary: Of course, he knew the truth: he was trapped, alone, and slowly dying. There was no one coming for him, as much as he might like to think. Movieverse. A companion to The Forgotten.


_A/N --Hi, everyone. It's nice to see you all. If you're a fan of my other story, The Forgotten, who finished reading it and is looking for more, great! Glad to have you back. If you're new to my Coraline fanfictions, then I'd reccomend that you read The Forgotten before you start this. Then again, it is a companion, so technically it's your choice. _

_And when I say companion, I mean "companion." Not sequel, since obviously The Forgotten was a bit too final to have a sequel. _

_Just as in The Forgotten, I won't reveal what I hope to accomplish with this story until the end. I'm not even going to tell you what it's actually supposed to be. Although I'm sure that by the time you finish this chapter, you'll have guessed._

_And yes, it is going to have more than one chapter._

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"You're going to pay for this."

He winced as he was yanked sharply ahead, stumbling along, coat flailing. Her withered fingers were clenched tightly around his left hand; his right no longer existed. The empty sleeve dangled uselessly behind him.

"I told you!! I gave you a second chance, and you still betrayed me!!! _I warned you_…!"

He couldn't say that he was sorry. Speechless, voiceless, he resided in a world of silence. And he wasn't sorry anyway. He had done the right thing. Coraline wouldn't be back anytime soon, and _she _wouldn't have the meal she didn't deserve.

"Do you think it is wise to defy your creator, your mistress, your _mother_?! Do you have any idea of how powerful I really am? I created you, and I can destroy you just as easily."

Through the halls that still retained a hint of their alluring décor, past the mirror where the discarded oven mitt was still crumpled in the corner, and up to the heavy varnished wooden door where he knew from the start they'd be headed. He'd seen what was behind that door twice. The first time, he had been gaining awareness on the day of his creation, hardly three days ago. The second time had been earlier today (or perhaps it had been yesterday?) when he had received his punishment for "pulling a long face."

"But you can rest assured, _dear_," she spat, the _she_ that some called the Other Mother, even though she had no resemblance to a mother at all, "that I will NOT destroy you easily. You've nearly ruined me! And you are going to suffer."

She shoved him into the rectangular opening of darkness so forcefully that he toppled to his knees. Her fury flared, so much so that he could almost feel it physically, like the prickle of heat that creeps across your skin when you stand too close to a fire. She seized him by the collar and brutally threw him across the room, where he collided with the oversized sewing table. His head slammed into a corner and sent him reeling; he staggered and collapsed.

"Get up!"

Struggling against the dizziness, he hastily sprung to his feet, but the room swirled and he fell once more. She hissed impatiently, then tossed him atop the table, where he lay dazed and helpless. While he was incapacitated, she quickly retrieved a handful of sewing pins to tether him in place. But instead of attaching him by only his clothes, she drove them right through his limbs, skewering him to the table. His mouth stretched open in a silent gasp of pain.

"You deserve what's coming to you," the towering witch above him muttered sharply. "You're an ungrateful little traitor. I should have destroyed you at your first offense, I realized that now. But your interference was minimal. I always have a back-up plan…"

He wrenched his thoughts from the pain in his limbs – almost certainly the prelude to the agony to come – and focused on her words. A back-up plan? She couldn't possibly have a back-up plan! He'd gotten Coraline through the door. She was probably in her own world right now. She was smart enough to hide the key and never return. No back-up plan could change that.

"Oh, you don't know, dear?" The monster above him made a face that could have been described as pitying, had it been reflected on her previous false form. Now it was a cruel, mocking parody of sympathy – and he dreaded whatever he was to hear next.

"I suppose I should tell you," she continued, deliberately prolonging his mortified anticipation. "When I'm through with you, you'll never be able to reveal any information to anyone again, that's for sure." She leaned down disgustingly close; her pointed nose was almost brushing his forehead. As she spoke, her pearly gray teeth glittered like a stained glass window on a sunny day. "I took her parents," she whispered.

Perhaps the fear, which maintained an icy grip on every part of him, was clouding his mind as well. He didn't understand.

"I took Coraline's parents," she repeated, grinning with inhuman satisfaction. "Such a clever, naïve girl. She'll figure out it was me one way or another. She'll come bursting in here, intent on playing hero. She'll look in every conceivable place in this world." A clawlike black nail jabbed at his nose. "But she'll never find them."

This truth – this back-up plan – had paralyzed him. He wanted to rip himself from the sewing table, bolt into Coraline's world no matter the expense, and tell her everything. But he didn't have the strength to wriggle a finger.

_She _hadn't known that he would try to deceive her. But she had guessed.

"A snowglobe," she declared triumphantly – she, the Other Mother, the woman responsible for his creation and, soon, his destruction. "The perfect hiding place. So obvious, yet so deceptive. Coraline will never realize it And I'll have the parents to torment whenever I feel the urge…" Suddenly she shook herhead, as if clearing her thoughts of such things.

"But that's all for the very far future," she said. "I'm quite getting ahead of myself. For now, I believe that you and I have some unfinished business."

She placed her left hand on his chest, and he felt his body involuntarily going slack, responding to her ethereal grip.

"Such a shame," she sighed. "Such a waste. You were so good when I first made you. So unsoiled. You showed such promise…"

She raised her right hand, almost as if taking an oath. "You've been a very bad boy, Wybie. Such a waste of materials. But I always make sure never to waste perfectly good buttons."

And with that, she swiped her right hand across his eyes, splitting the fragile threads that held them in place.

Blindness.


End file.
